Tuff Enuff
by foobar137
Summary: Buford has finally decided to ask the girl of his dreams to the dance, but Gretchen wants to make sure he's changed before she'll say yes. If he wants this date, he's going to have to earn it with apologies, pain, gratuitous French, philosophy, and more. Kink bingo: penance/punishment.


**Kink bingo: penance/punishment**

**This story comes from three ideas coming together: the kink bingo prompt 'penance/punishment', the song 'Tuff Enuff' by the Fabulous Thunderbirds, and my realization that Buford and Gretchen could totally make a cute couple.**

**Timeline: Freshman year of high school. Buford and Gretchen are fourteen.**

* * *

Buford had fallen for Gretchen from the first time he heard her say 'sesquipedalian', but had kept his feelings private. He was so jealous of her - she was smart, and everybody knew it, and everybody was okay with that. He couldn't get away with the same - everyone expected him to be a big, dumb bully. He had kept his intelligence hidden behind a mask of senseless violence.

And she was so beautiful. Those bright blue eyes, hiding behind her glasses. That long auburn hair he longed to run his fingers through. Those dangerous curves she was starting to develop, showing through the bulky sweaters she covered herself with.

He'd known she wouldn't want anything to do with a bully, so he'd chosen to change his ways when they'd entered high school. He'd intended to wait until the end of the year to confess his feelings, but he'd seen the eyes of other boys on her, and he knew if he waited any longer, it might be too late. He had to let her know, and would let everyone else's opinions fall as they would.

"Hey, Gretchen?" he asked with forced casualness, approaching her as she dropped books off in her locker.

She gave him a confused look. "What's up, Buford?"

He couldn't look her in the eye; his toes dug at the vinyl floor of the hallway. "So there's this dance coming up," he began, "an' I was wonderin' if you might be willin' to go with me?"

She didn't respond immediately, and he hesitantly looked up at her. Her face was a mask. "Buford, are you asking me on a date?"

"If I say yes, will you accept?"

Gretchen stared at him levelly. "You've been tormenting half the kids in this school for years. And now you want me to just forget all that and say, teehee, let's go out? No." She slammed her locker shut and began to walk off.

"I've changed, though. I ain't done nuttin' like that in months. When's the last time you saw me bully anyone?"

She paused, still facing away from him, and thought. "Okay. You're correct, I have not seen you persecuting others the same way in quite some time. Does that forgive everything else you've done? Still no."

"What can I do to prove to you I've changed?"

She turned back to him, the faintest hint of a smile beginning to turn the corner of her mouth. "Apologize to Baljeet, in public. And two more forms of penance, which I still need to ponder."

"Deal. Aquinas said that it's impossible for sin to be forgiven without penance, after all."

Gretchen raised an eyebrow. "He was talking about divine forgiveness, though."

Buford shrugged. "He also said the grace of God is the cause of grace in humans."

* * *

Later that day, at lunch, Baljeet was slipping through the lunch line, hoping to remain undetected. Luck seemed to be with him; most of the bullies had already gotten their lunch and were gathered at their usual table.

He had just gotten his lunch when a meaty hand clapped him on the shoulder. _Oh no. So close! This is a brand-new shirt, and I was hoping it would not be covered in my lunch for at least one full day._

"Hey, 'jeet, can I talk to you for a moment?" Buford asked.

_It is...Buford? But he has not done anything to me for quite some time._

Hesitantly, Baljeet nodded.

The large young man looked agonized, as if what he were about to say were literally causing him pain. "Baljeet...I'm sorry. I'm sorry I bullied you. I apologize."

Baljeet blinked.

Buford spoke up, shouting to be heard in the crowded cafeteria. "Attention! I, Buford van Stomm, officially apologize to Baljeet Tjinder for bullying him. It was wrong, and I should not have done that."

The crowd around them looked up, shrugged, and went back to their food and conversation. Buford nodded his head at Baljeet, and went off to the bully table, where he talked to them for a couple minutes.

Baljeet found a spot to eat, and, as usual, quickly devoured his lunch so he could escape from the cafeteria as quickly as possible.

_That was bizarre. I wonder what caused that._

* * *

Gretchen gave a slight smile to Buford as he came over to her from the bully table. "Okay. One down," he said. "And I asked the guys over there to lay off Baljeet from now on."

"And will they?"

"They said they'd think about it. Any plans for the next thing I need to do? Wrestle a grizzly bear? Walk ten miles on my hands and knees? Climb the Empire State Building?"

"None of those. Meet me at the school gym Saturday morning at 9am. Plan to be there until about noon. Wear workout clothes, and a cup. You'll need it."

* * *

Isabella looked at her watch. "Gretchen, are you sure? Who did you get to come help us with this patch?"

Gretchen grinned. "You'll see."

Isabella sighed. "This had better work, Gretchen. We tried this patch once before, remember, and the robot Phineas and Ferb built for us to use got stolen by that capybara in a fedora. If we blow it this time, we can't ever get this patch."

Ginger muttered, "I still think we should have used Phineas."

Isabella turned and glared at the Japanese teen. "We are _not_ using Phineas for this."

Katie loudly whispered, "Maybe we'd beat a clue into him," to Ginger.

Isabella stared at her. "Et tu, Katie?"

Buford came through the gym door, looking surprised to see the troop of Fireside Girls dressed in loose workout clothes. "What's up?" he asked Gretchen.

Gretchen gave him a vicious smile. "Thank you for coming, Buford. We're finishing up our last few patches before we graduate to Senior Fireside Girl status, and one of the final ones is fairly involved. This is our Advanced Self-Defense Patch, and we need someone to act as our training...partner."

"Victim," Ginger corrected.

Isabella stepped forward. "We need somebody to beat up, Buford. Someone on whom we can practice hitting, and throwing, and kicking. If you start this, and then back out, we can't ever get the patch, so we really need you to stick through the whole thing once we start. Are you in?"

Buford nodded. "I'm in."

Isabella pointed toward a bag on the floor. "Okay, there's some protective padding in there. You can put it on while we warm up."

"Oh! I get padding?" Buford looked surprised.

Isabella stared at the large young man. "You were going to do this without?"

Buford shrugged. "If I was able to dish it out back in my bullying days, I should expect to be able to take it."

* * *

The next three hours passed in a painful blur for Buford, but a few particular images stuck out in his memory. His first demonstration, approaching Isabella with a plastic knife, only to find it knocked from his hand just before he was thrown across the gym. The venomous smile on Ginger's face when she got ready to take him down with a staff, and her cry of triumph when it slipped through a gap in his padding to strike unprotected skin. Katie's exultant shout when she finally completed a successful throw after several attempts. The feel of Gretchen landing on top of him after a leg sweep knocked him to the mat. And, most importantly, the realization that he was using his physical abilities for good for a change.

* * *

"All right! Congratulations, troop, we've all earned the patch! Adyson, here's the stack, why don't you hand them out to everyone?" Isabella passed the patches over, then turned to Buford. "Thank you for your help, Buford. We really couldn't have done this without you. Are you going to be okay?"

"I'll be sore, but that's about it. Just a couple bruises."

Seeing that the rest of the troop was all gathered around Adyson, she asked him quietly, "So what did Gretchen promise you for doing this? She wouldn't say."

"Hopefully, you'll know by next weekend."

Isabella looked at him, confused. "What's next weekend? Oh, the dance? Did you ask her to the dance, Buford?"

"Ain't my place to say. I'm atonin' for previous offenses."

The black-haired teen's eyes narrowed as she looked across at the former bully. "That's a lot of atonement."

"You guys hit me a lotta times."

Isabella nodded. "That we did. Good luck, Buford."

"Thanks. I think I might still need it."

* * *

Gretchen lay back in her bed that night, trying not to move so as not to exert overworked muscles. _What do I do for the third penance?_

_Well - do I want him to succeed at it, or fail?_

She wasn't sure. She'd never really contemplated Buford before; he'd been more of a force of nature than a potential partner. But she'd long noticed that he had a keen brain, which he'd carefully tried to keep concealed; it had only been through a series of minor slips that she'd been able to figure it out in the first place.

And now he'd turned that brain toward wooing her. Which was flattering in its own way, but mere flattery was far insufficient for her to actually agree to date him. She wasn't sure why he wanted her.

But if he could be a kindred spirit - somebody with whom she could talk about philosophy and literature...well, then. She'd been missing one of those sorely. Baljeet was brilliant, but only wanted to talk about math; besides, any attempt to approach him would raise Ginger's ire. Likewise, Phineas's incredible brain was devoted almost entirely to inventing, and romantic inclinations toward him were contraindicated by Isabella's certain wrath. Ferb was intriguing, but it was difficult to continue an intellectual conversation with someone who primarily communicated by eyebrow raises and finger snaps. Django had a brilliant artistic sensibility, but she found his philosophical efforts shallow and uninteresting. Irving wasn't a stunning conversationalist even when talking about his favorite subject (Phineas and Ferb); on anything other than that or Space Adventure, he was worthless. The Fireside Girls were great friends, but much more interested in practical effort than deep thought.

She realized that she'd already made her decision. She had to find something suitable to determine if this may be a viable relationship. Because some part of her, deep down, really wanted it to be.

* * *

They met at the park downtown the next day. The Fireside Girls had just finished setting up a pair of podiums when Buford arrived. "So, what're we doin' today?" he asked.

Gretchen gave him a warm smile. "Before we get started, I have one question for you. Why me? There are many other girls in school who wouldn't make you go through this."

Buford looked serious for a moment, then spoke in French. "_On ne voit bien qu'avec le coeur._"

She recognized the quote immediately, and completed it. "_L'essential est invisible pour les yeux._" _One only sees clearly with the heart. The essential is invisible to the eyes._ "_Le Petit Prince._ It's one of my favorites. How did you know?"

Buford shrugged. "I just like it. I'm glad you do too." He looked off into the distance for a moment, then back at her. "The other girls would be..." He paused, looking for the right word. "Dull."

Gretchen nodded, and pointed to the podiums. "It occurred to me that we've had direct penance for bullying and for physical violence, but we haven't had any for your vocal dislike of nerds and your concealment of your own gifts. So, we're going to have a debate. One of the philosophical classics - is determinism compatible with free will?"

"So, if I beat you in a debate, you'll go to the dance with me?"

"You don't have to win. You just have to try. You can choose either side of the debate."

"So, what you're sayin' is that I can't keep hidin' my philosophical bent if I'm gonna date you," Buford said thoughtfully.

"That is, indeed, precisely what I am saying."

Buford closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then shivered all over. He opened his eyes and nodded. "It's a deal. I'll take compatibilism."

"Agreed. I'll take hard determinism, then." She watched him walk over to one podium; she took position at the other, opening her water bottle in preparation. Looking out over the crowd, she saw many of their friends - the rest of the Fireside Girls, plus various other people from school. Baljeet was lurking in the back, hiding behind a tree.

"The question before us is," Buford began in his raspy voice, "whether determinism means that free will does not exist. We're takin' as a given that determinism is true. I'm arguin' for the side of compatibilism, basically sayin' that determinism don't mean that there ain't free will.

"The core problem becomes definin' free will. If somebody does somethin' because it's what they want to do, what they choose to do, ain't that free will, even if their personality means it's the only thing they'd ever choose to do? Baljeet has free will to choose whether or not to do his math homework, but because of who he is, he'd never choose not to."

Suddenly, Holly pointed at a building off to the side. "Hey, there's smoke coming from that building over there." Everyone turned to look.

Gretchen saw a young girl, probably about ten, open a window on the third floor. Smoke came billowing out. The girl coughed, then screamed, "HELP ME, PLEASE!" Several of the onlookers pulled out their phones and called 911.

Buford grabbed his water bottle and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket; he sprinkled water on it as he ran toward the building. Suddenly realizing what he was doing, she shouted, "Buford, no!" but he covered his nose and mouth with the handkerchief, then hardly broke stride as he burst through the front door.

A heart-stopping moment later, and she saw him through the window, taking the girl by the hand and leading her away. The smoke coming out of the window was getting thicker, and the sound of sirens was rapidly getting louder. An ambulance arrived first, followed shortly thereafter by the first fire truck. Gretchen ran to the truck; Ginger was already there, reporting on the situation to the firefighters. Flames were flickering out the window the girl had been at, and the firefighters were just preparing to go in when Buford burst back through the front door, carrying the crying girl.

The paramedics lay both Buford and the girl down and assessed their conditions as the firefighters quickly questioned whether there was anyone else in the house; fortunately, it seemed the girl had been alone, and the house was now empty. As it became clear that, other than minor smoke inhalation, they were both okay, things quieted down and the firefighters knocked the fires down from outside with high-pressure hoses.

Gretchen slipped over and knelt next to Buford. "That was a foolish and very brave thing to do," she said, her eyes starting to water.

He coughed, and said, "But I chose to do it. Guess I can't finish the debate before this dance. Can we try again before the next one?"

Half laughing, half crying, Gretchen said, "It'd be churlish of me at best to not count heroism and self-sacrifice in your favor." She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "Yes, Buford, I will go to the dance with you."

* * *

He arrived at her house, carefully dressed in a shirt and tie with nice slacks. Placing one hand behind his back, he rung the doorbell.

The door opened, and there she was, dressed in a sapphire-blue dress, her hair carefully set, a light touch of makeup on her face. He felt awestruck, and her smile at him made his knees feel weak.

"You look spectacular," he managed to say.

"The troop decided I needed a makeover," she said, ducking her head a bit in embarrassment.

He pulled his hand out from behind his back, revealing a single rose. "For you," he said. She took it with a blush and a laugh.

"I have something for you as well," she said, pulling a small pin from her purse and placing it in his hand.

Looking at it, he saw that it was a small image of a fox, and he was puzzled for a moment until understanding dawned.

He smiled and said, "_Tu deviens responsable pour toujours de ce que tu as apprivoisé._" It was another famous saying from _Le Petit Prince_: _You become responsible forever for what you have tamed._ "I'll be your fox if you'll be my rose," he said.

Gretchen kissed him on the cheek and said, "It's a deal."

* * *

**If you haven't read Le Petit Prince (The Little Prince), I highly recommend it. For those who haven't read it, the first thing tamed by the prince is a rose; the one who teaches him about what it means, and who is also tamed by him, is a fox. Thus Buford's last comment - effectively, "I'll be tamed by you if you'll be tamed by me."**

**The philosophical debate is cribbed from various Internet sources. My apologies to any philosophers who read it, since they're probably cringing at how horribly I've mangled the concepts.**

**Buford's suggestions for things he could do are all examples given in the song, as things the singer would do to prove he's tough enough for the object of his affections to love him.**


End file.
